Alyssia crouched in a bramble patch, her cloak blending with the shadows. The wind carried the scent of pine and damp earth, but a far more interesting scene compelled her attention. Silvery moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting an eerie glow across the clearing.

She shouldn’t be here. The Council of Elders had warned her of the dangers lurking in these woods, of the power that stirred beneath the roots of the ancient oaks. But Alyssia was stubborn, driven by a curiosity that none of their warnings could quell. Tonight, she came to witness something no mortal should see.

The stone altar in the center of the clearing drew her eye. Carved with the runes of a hundred forgotten tongues, a barely discernible light emanated from the etchings. Thirteen robed figures, faces hidden beneath hoods, encircled it. They chanted in a low, rhythmic murmur, their voices blending with the forest’s nocturnal symphony. Alyssia’s heart raced, her breathing shallow as she peered from her hidden position.

The rite began.

At first, nothing happened. The air grew still, heavy with anticipation. The moonlight dimmed. Then, a figure emerged from the shadows at the edge of the clearing—tall, clad in flowing black robes, with eyes that shone like twin stars. The robed figures paused, their chanting quieting in unison as they turned toward him.

This was the one Alyssia had heard whispered about in hushed tones, the mage known only as Zarak. His legendary power, and connection to the ancient forces that slumbered inside the earth, provoked countless rumors. Rumor said that he could command the very elements, bend the fabric of reality itself.

Zarak raised his arms, and the air crackled with a surge of energy. The runes on the stone altar glowed, faint at first, growing brighter with each passing second. Alyssia’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen the ancient magics before, but nothing like this. This was something far older, far more dangerous.

Then it happened.

A shadow stretched from the altar, taking shape, its form shifting; writhing like smoke. It coalesced into something more solid, something monstrous. Alyssia’s pulse raced, breath coming in shallow gulps. Her hand reached for the dagger at her belt. The creature—half beast, half nightmare—towered over the robed figures, its glowing eyes fixed on Zarak, who stood unflinching.

“You awaken me, mortal,” it said, in a deep, guttural growl. “What do you seek?”

“Power. Immortality.” Zarak’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “The world itself, remade in my image.”

“You will regret this,” it said, letting out a low, rumbling laugh. Its form shifted again, becoming more solid, more terrifying.

Alyssia’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the ritual unfold before her eyes. She’d heard stories of the ancient beasts, of their slumber beneath the world, but to see one unleashed… The earth itself shifted, and the fabric of reality ripped open.

I saw the whole thing, Alyssia thought, though she knew the words would never leave her lips. She shouldn’t be here, and now she couldn’t look away.

Zarak’s triumphant expression faltered for just a moment as the beast’s power surged around them, shaking the very ground. The robed figures retreated, panic spreading through their ranks. But Zarak stood firm, the glow in his eyes intensifying.

“This world is mine to shape,” he said, even as the beast’s form grew more unstable, its power threatening to consume them all.

Alyssia didn’t know what would happen next. She didn’t know if Zarak had truly unleashed a force beyond his control, or if this was all part of a greater plan. But one thing was certain—whatever happened here tonight, the world would never again be the same.

“I saw the whole thing, I saw it all.” Chills ran down her spine. She knew, deep in her bones, that she would forever remember what she had witnessed.